


Stab It, Strangle It

by wrote_and_writ



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 06:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18219392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrote_and_writ/pseuds/wrote_and_writ





	Stab It, Strangle It

“Stab it. Strangle it. Scoop out the guts. Toss it off a cliff. Stab, strangle, scoop, toss. Stab, strangle, scoop, toss. Stab, strangle, scoop, toss. Stab, strangle…”

Diego paused outside Klaus’s bedroom door, listening to him chant softly _stab, strangle, scoop, toss, stab, strangle, scoop, toss_ He stood, transfixed, for nearly five minutes. He wanted to know what the fuck Klaus was up to, but he also did not want to walk in on him doing something weird, or worse, jerking off. Diego shuddered off flashes of adolescent memories. But if Klaus was hurting himself...he’d only been out of rehab for a couple days this time, and Diego was never sure how long it’d be til Klaus went back. 

He reached out and knocked, a tentative brush of knuckles on wood. “Klaus? Buddy?”

“...scoop, toss! Yes?” Klaus’s sweet voice sounded steady enough. 

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t know. Can you?”

Diego rolled his eyes and opened the door. His shoulders sagged in relief at the relatively normal scene before him. Klaus perched on his bed, naked but for a pair of lime-colored boxer-briefs. Several balls of black yarn balanced beside him, and he gripped a pair of wooden knitting needles in his hands, on which three or so inches of knitting dangled.

“How may I be of service, dearest brother? Second dearest brother?” he amended after a quick glance to his left. 

“Dunno. I’m usually the stabby one here. It’s kind of my thing. I just wanted to see what you were up to.”

Klaus held up the ragged fabric he worked at. His hands shook, and he made no effort to hide the tremors. Nor did he attempt to conceal the pride in his eyes as he waved his creation at Diego.

Diego sat at the foot of his brother’s bed. “You’re knitting?”

“Yeah! This nice lady, I think her name was Deborah? Or Judith. Karen? I don’t remember. She ran ‘crafternoons’ at the center I was at,” he said, his fingers crooking in air quotes. “I had to participate or they wouldn't let me out. But look! I’m making a thing!”

Diego fingered the wool. He knew fuck-all about knitting, but he was certain he didn’t have the talent, or let’s be honest, the patience to knit. He was impressed and told Klaus as much.

Klaus beamed at Diego.

“But what’s with all this stabbing shit?” he asked. 

“Oh! It’s this sweet little rhyme she taught us.” Klaus scooted over to sit right beside Diego and held up his knitting. “Watch. You stab it.” He inserted the tip of the right needle through the loop on the end of the left one. “Strangle it.” He wrapped the trailing yarn around the inserted needle. “Scoop out the guts,” he said with relish, pulling the new loop through the loop on the left needle. “And then you toss it off a cliff!” He scooted the old loop off the needle with his left index finger. 

“Do it again,” Diego commanded. Klaus smiled and pressed against him.

“Stab. Strangle. Scoop. Toss. See? Isn’t it neat?”

“Again.” He couldn’t see how Klaus managed to scoop the new loop and move the yarn right without the whole thing unravelling. 

Klaus dutifully repeated the process, slowly, as steady as his hands would allow. Diego could see something was wrong with the stitches. Some were so tight Klaus had to stab them several times to get them to comply. Diego grinned wryly. That was something he could relate to. Other stitches were so loose they practically fell over the instant they were stabbed. But Klaus always started and ended each row with the same number of stitches.

“I could teach you if you want,” Klaus murmured, cheek pressed to Diego’s shoulder. 

“Later, yeah? I’ve got a date, and Dora’ll be pissed if I’m late. Again.”

“Sure. Yeah. Okay, later,” Klaus said, edging away from Diego. “Later.”

“But hey, since you have all this black yarn, maybe you could, I don’t know, make me a scarf or something? For winter? Stake outs can get hella cold.”

“I would love to, Brother Dear. Second Brother Dear.”

Diego awkwardly patted Klaus’s knee. “I gotta go. Dora. But you can show me later.”

“Of course. Do give Eudora a big old hug and kiss from Brother Klaus.”

Diego grinned and caught Klaus in an affectionate head lock. “I will.”

When Diego left that night, Klaus was curled up on a sofa in the front room, a cup of tea perched on the armrest, peacefully chanting _stab, strangle, scoop, toss_ to himself, a look of intense concentration on his too-thin face. When Diego stopped by the mansion a few days later, he found a lumpy but recognizable scarf carefully folded on his bed. 

It would be eight months before Diego could thank him in person.


End file.
